No Kissing
by threesquares
Summary: Brennan and Booth, New Year's Eve, tequila, and a snowstorm. A Holiday fic for Dispatch200705 as part of Biba79's 2013 Fanfic Secret Santa.


Dear Dispatch22705,

Here is a story for you: I'm a reader. And a teacher, actually, but that has nothing to do with anything. Or rather, maybe it had a little something to do with the fact that I developed migraines a few years ago. Up in the middle of the night with a headache that would not go away, I found a Bones marathon. But the REALLY fun part, was, after having watched them all when I haven't been that into a series since M*A*S*H reruns in grad school, or Firefly, was finding fanfiction. I read dozens of Star Trek novels in college so I knew it when I saw it, I just didn't know that it existed beyond the micro, _no the nano_-fraction available in print. You and many other writers penning deliciously sexy and emotional and angsty and funny and clever stories in one of my new favorite worlds with two of my favorite characters, made things better for me. A lot better. You are one of my earliest favorited authors and one I go back and reread often. Thanks. Merry Christmas.

3squares, 12/7/13

Also a giant thank you dharmamonkey, Covalent Bond, and casket4mytears without whom the story would not have been finished the way it was or maybe not even finished at all. They buoyed me up in a google document full of whining (me), and helping (them). Thank you. I am so grateful for this community of writers and readers, all!

Here's Dispatch's prompt I chose.

Characters I wish for: Booth, Brennan

Please include: snowstorm, New Year's Eve, tequila

Please exclude: fighting (I think I thought this meant B&B fighting. Hope so cause there is another kind of fighting but it really isn't fighting. Aw, hell, just read it. You can send the fic police after me if I have violated the prompt.)

Maximum rating: any (M, of course)

Set in Season 4.

* * *

3:12 am :u want to do new years eve w me?:

The text was time stamped 3:12 am. Sometimes Booth was awake in the night. Sometimes she was awake in the night. It was 4:12 now, actually. Maybe he was asleep now, but she wrote back anyway.

4:12 am :I was planning on working. And before you object and say that I can't work on the one of the funnest—and that is not a word by the way, no matter how many times you use it—holidays of the year, it is almost a tradition for me. I like working on New Year's eve.:

She waited a few minutes but when the response didn't come, she rolled over, pulling the covers up over her nose just the right amount. When she woke again, for good, at 6:30, his response was waiting.

4:51 am :hell bones that was closer to yes than I thought i would get. please? i had a great christmas with parker and now i want to ring in the new year with my partner. please?:

4:52 :please?:

4:54 :please?:

4:56 :please?:

5:01 :please?:

She smiled, exasperated, knowing he wasn't going to give up. Counting on it, truth be told. How long should she make him wait? Her phone buzzed in her hand.

6:31 :want to meet at the diner?:

She texted back her agreement and tossed her phone on the bed. She'd given herself enough time to shower and pick up before meeting Booth.

**SJB & TB**

Even through the steamy windows, Brennan could discern Booth's shape jogging down the icy sidewalk toward the diner. She turned just as Booth entered in a swirl of cold air and flying snowflakes, underdressed as usual, lightly quilted nylon navy blue jacket over a thin t-shirt and jeans. His Saturday stubble and confident (if occasionally aggressive) entrance into any room always turned heads and today was no different. It might be a holiday but their usual waitress was there to smile at him and down on the end of the counter, a couple of agents Booth knew looked up and and called a greeting. Booth grinned at Sheryl and waved casually to his colleagues even as he loped past Brennan's table, sliding into his favorite seat across from her, facing the entrance of the diner.

"Booth, aren't you cold?"

"Nope." Booth "ran hot" as he put it and indeed, she would often scoot closer when she was cold, letting his warmth penetrate the layers of her clothing, but he was already leaning forward and talking again, as if picking up mid-conversation, which she supposed he was in a way. "So here's what I was thinking. If you _have_ to go into work, I could drop you by after breakfast. The weather is getting worse you know, Bones. It is supposed to be a huge storm. They are even talking about moving some of the stuff they were televising outside, inside. You don't want to be stuck at the Jeffersonian in a blizzard."

"Booth, I—"

He rushed on, "And later I could pick you up, we could have dinner and drinks, maybe go back to my apartment—"

"Booth, you—"

"...and watch a movie and then watch the ball drop. Last year they showed New Year all over the world. You can tell me about all the skeletons you dug up in all the countries and—"

"Yes, Booth. I would like—"

"I can be all like 'Bones do we have to talk about dead bodies now, and you can be all like but the calcification of the extra bony protuberance of the epic foramen was just so unusual and then I..._what_?"

She felt the smile she had been suppressing come unbound and she laughed, reaching across to move his napkin out of the way as Sheryl put the cup of coffee down in front of him. "Yes, alright. I would like to spend New Year's with you." Honestly, she wouldn't have refused him even if she had wanted to. Ever since the case with the body in the tree, when he convinced her to let Max keep his job at the Jeffersonian, something had changed. Shifted a little. All those times early on in their partnership when he had asked for a favor, or more rarely, she had asked him. Those favors had been just that: _favors_. And those favors helped cement their partnership. But he had asked her to let her Dad stay to help him with Parker and maybe that was the truth but it wasn't all of it. Part of it was his way of helping her accept her father in her life. Partnership had long ago mixed with friendship, but now, now, it felt like there was more friendship than partnership even, or maybe some third thing was entering into the mix.

Booth grinned at her, happiness in every line of his face and body leaning toward her. As usual, he crossed into her personal space with impunity, and also as usual, she felt, not uncomfortable exactly, but a little giddy with his closeness. "On one condition, Booth."

"Sure, Bones. Anything." He casually agreed, not even looking at her, busy signaling Sheryl for his usual breakfast sandwich.

"No kissing."

His head swung back toward her immediately, face curiously blank. "What?!"

"No kissing." Uncomfortable with his scrutiny, she glanced down, unnecessarily stirring her coffee. She glanced back up at him and explained. "Traditionally, New Year's Eve culminates with singing a ritual song and kissing. I think that we should agree now, so as to take any awkwardness out of the equation, that we are not kissing tonight. Or first thing tomorrow morning." She added this last hurriedly, proof against loopholes. Although which one of them was more likely to be looking for a loophole, she decided not to pursue.

Booth's face now showed nothing but good humor. "Smart, Bones. Not that...well, you know, not that we _would_ have been kissing, but now we can just have a good time and not worry about...you know...anything." He clasped his hands together and rubbed them briskly. "So let's make plans. Where do you want to go for dinner?"

**SJB & TB**

A little before three, Micah the security guard came to get her, reporting that there was a phone call for her at the main desk. Brennan had started thinking of him as _her_ security guard in part because she found his conversation more interesting than that of many other people and in part because he never seemed to be present except when she was alone. Sure enough, by the time she had emerged from Bone Storage, well insulated as it was by structural steel and surrounded by interference-causing devices, her escort had taken himself off on some other duty and she was left taking the receiver from the Guard-with-a-Deviated-Septum-most-likely-from-Marfan's-Syndrome.

"Dr. Temperance Brennan."

"Bones, why weren't you answering your phone? Were you in Limbo?"

"Yes, Booth.. I did have my cell phone with me but as you know, it doesn't always work down there. Why are you calling? I said I'd meet you out front at 5."

"Bones, I'm sure you haven't left the Jeffersonian all day so you wouldn't know that the weather has really gotten bad. Much worse than they were predicting. There are 18 inches on the ground already and more to come. The advisories are now warning people to stay in and there will likely be power outages."

"Booth, you sound happy about it."

"C'mon, Bones. Come out and play with me, would ya? It's perfect snowman snow. And I really don't think you want to stick around any longer. I'd be surprised if anyone working there wasn't being encouraged to leave." Brennan looked up and found that indeed, the flow of traffic was definitely toward the outside, and the museum gift shop, which had been planning to close at 5 with the museum proper, had a hand lettered sign indicating they were closing at 3:30 due to weather conditions." She made a decision.

"Okay, Booth. Let me go get my things and I'll meet you out front?"

"I'm out there now."

Brennan laughed. "You were pretty sure of your ability to convince me..."

"You know it, Bones. Hurry up, we've got people waiting on us."

"Wait, what—"

"And bundle up!" Booth shouted before he hung up.

They spent the next several hours in a snowball fight in the Jeffersonian gardens. Various employees and a even a few New Year's Eve Day visitors had organized into loose teams...Scarves vs. Hats. Hodgins was there-he spent almost as much time at the Jeffersonian as she did since Zach went away, as well as a number of interns and administrators and even some of her colleagues in various departments from the museum.

If it were any other day, she might not have played. If. If there hadn't been such a diverse group of people. If the storm hadn't made it difficult to really know who was present. If Booth hadn't been so persistent and if he hadn't made a huge show of "picking her" for his team by switching scarves with her. If he hadn't leaned over close by her ear as he wrapped the big thick black and orange Flyers scarf around her neck. If he hadn't growled, "C'mon, Bones. You know we can take them. With my arm and your brain, we will _crush_ them." She shivered as she felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek, her ear. How could she tell him no? Why would she tell him no?

By five o'clock, her legs were shaky and weak from running and ducking and her hands, despite heavy mittens, felt frozen. Her face and her belly, however, were both were weak with laughter. This was the most fun she had had outside of her work in a long time.

"Hey! Get out of there. Those are our snowballs!" Booth's familiar voice was by her side suddenly. He had swooped in close to check why she had stopped. Seeing that she had stripped out of her gloves, he pulled his own off and cupped her hands in his own shockingly warm ones. "Damn, Bones, you are _cold_. Here, try this." He unzipped his coat and pulled her hands inside, slipping them under his arms. Yo, Dinosaur boy! Hey stop those guys from the Age of Aviation from getting in our fort!" As he spoke, over her head, he pulled Brennan forward and her arms naturally slid around him and her face was pressed inside his jacket, hard against the heat of his chest. She managed to keep her moan low and barely audible. He was so _warm_, and smelled _so good_.

Booth rubbed his hands up and down her back and commented. "Hey, it's getting dark, Bones. Are you hungry? We can get going." He pulled his head back so he could look down at her. She tilted her head up and it _was_ getting dark; it was hard to make out his expression.

"I'm very hungry, Booth, and cold. Yes, let's go."

"Do you know where you want to go? I'm not sure we are going to make it to the fancy place uptown." His eyes widened when he saw her smile.

"I know exactly where I want to go, Booth." She pulled free of him, excited to know something he didn't know. She managed to zip his coat up with her newly dexterous fingers, and grabbed his hand in hers, not bothering to put her soaked mittens back on before pulling him toward the front of the museum. "Where did you park the car?"

"Bones! Back that way-whoa!" She swung him around on the end of her arm and started dragging him in the other direction. Booth hurried to catch up and called out a goodbye to the others. Brennan heard Hodgins call out "See you later, Dr. B!" and she replied in kind. She really was starving, she realized.

**SJB & TB**

It took three times as long to drive back to Brennan's apartment as it usually did. Driving conditions were terrible. The city, however, was beautiful: last week's Christmas lights sparkling and the heavy swirl of snow covered the dirt and soot of city life. Booth parked in the garage and then turned to Brennan, his voice disembodied in the dark car.

"So, Bones. Now what?"

"Well, Booth, first, what do you think we should do about later? Your apartment or mine? I have to go in and get changed, I'm soaked, so we have to start here and the place I have in mind is walkable from here, but in the other direction of your apartment. But if we stay down here then we won't be able to watch t.v."

"Because you don't have one."

Brennan agreed, unrepentant. "Because I don't have one."

Booth smiled at her, still teasing, but not mad. "I don't really care, Bones. Why don't we wait and see how we feel, be spontaneous. D.C. cab drivers are pretty brave. We might even be able to get a cab back to my place after dinner depending on the weather. You'd better bring clothes with you just in case. I have my go bag in the car, so if we get snowed in here, I can crash on your couch."

The car had warmed on the way over and now the heat and quiet and dark felt intimate. Brennan didn't feel any desire to move but her body betrayed her, shuddering hard as her legs started to sting and prick where the skin was warming up.

"Damn, Bones, you are really cold. Let's go upstairs." Booth reached back for his bag, hopped out of the car and came around to her side, hustling her over to the building entrance. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Booth, I'm fine. I'll admit," she said, as they got into the elevator together, "I will be glad to be in dry clothes." That was easier said than done, however. Once alone in her bedroom, since her jeans were so wet and cold still, she really struggled to get them off. She hadn't taken her sweater and top off and was laying across the bed, pants down around her knees when she acknowledged that she needed Booth's help. She draped a towel over her lower body, to preserve Booth's modesty, and only hesitated a minute before calling out, still breathing hard from her exertions. "Booth?! Can you come help me a minute?"

"Bones?" She heard his voice and his footsteps coming closer. "What's up—Bones! What are you doing?"

She rolled her eyes at the ceiling, "My pants are stuck."

She expected him to tease her more but instead she felt him tuck his fingers into the edge of her recalcitrant pants and pull. Her pants turned inside out and got stuck on her feet but finally came free. Booth sucked in a breath as she sat up, his eyes focused on her thighs, almost glowing red as she warmed up.

"Bones, look how pink your legs are." He placed the palms of his hands wide on her thighs, fingers pushing up against the edge of the towel, her skill was still so cold and clammy from the time outside. His hands were hot against the cool skin and Brennan couldn't help but place her own hands on his.

"You are the one who feels like he has a fever, Booth." Booth's eyes moved from where they were fixed on her legs to meet hers, concern and humor and something else moving in the brown depths. Bending over the way he was, Booth's face was close, too close, and their breath mingled. Brennan smiled a little, pretending to not notice the tension in the room.

"Thanks, Booth. I can do the rest now."

His eyes flicked down to her mouth and back. "Sure, Bones." He straightened and she felt the loss. "I'll be waiting in the living room."

"Okay." She let him go.

**SJB & TB**

Dressed in dry clothes, bundled in her down coat with new mittens, hat, and scarf, Brennan led Booth to a tapas restaurant just ten blocks from her house. The place was new and had local microbrews as well as an eclectic mix of small plates. It was full of people and they got the last empty table, but new arrivals just seated themselves at the bar, weather and holiday combining to create an atmosphere of intimacy and inclusion. Everyone just crammed in, celebrating the end of one year and their hopes for the new. A television high in the corner of the bar showed a succession of musical acts and glimpses of New Year festivities around the world, and despite having chosen this restaurant herself, Brennan felt that Booth had arranged this too, making good on his original invitation.

When the waitress seated them, she had pointed to a list of beer on draught as well as a cocktail list. When she came back, Booth looked at Brennan. "What'll it be, Bones? A glass of wine?"

Brennan said, "I don't know, Booth. It is a holiday and snowing. Maybe something stronger, to warm me up?"

"I know just the thing, Bones. You need a shot of tequila."

A disbelieving laugh escaped her, "What? Why?"

Booth dismissed her question as he scanned the menu. "Trust me, Bones. That's what you need."

She raised her eyebrows. "Really? Well then you need one, too."

Booth looked up in surprise, but then tossed the menu her way as he leaned back, arms crossed over his chest. "Fine."

Brennan looked up at the waitress and said decisively, "Two shots of tequila, please."

Booth added, with a smirk for Brennan. "Better make that four."

When their drinks arrived they toasted and started ordering. From the beginning, the partners took turns ordering for each other, competing to see who was best pleased with the other's choice. Somewhere along the way, they started trading stories as well, deciding whose story was scarier or funnier or sillier. Brennan felt almost high, buzzed on honest fatigue from the snow play, the alcohol they had drunk, and Booth's undivided attention. She wanted to win their games but she also wanted him to win and somehow this made perfect sense. The live thrum of the connection between them pulsed, and Brennan was surprised that it wasn't visible to the naked eye. And then she was surprised at the whimsical thought.

"Have you ever been snowed in, Booth?"

"Lots of times, when I was a kid. Actually, I was snowed in once here in D.C., Bones. Broke my finger." His face showed that this was a happy memory and Brennan was confused.

"Really? You don't sound upset. When did this happen? Tell me."

Booth laughed at her bossiness. "Well, since you asked so nicely."

Brennan held up the last mini tart. "I'll give you the last one of these…"

Booth laughed louder and smirked. "That is tempting, but a pretty sad attempt to—"

He stopped talking when he felt her take his hand where it rested on the table. He had to work to keep his eyes open and level on hers, but his heart beat faster as she curled her fingers around his. She reached out with her other hand and tickled his palm with her fingernails. He held his breath as she leaned in.

"What do you say, Booth?" Her voice was low and her eyes soft on his. "Will you tell me? Did I ask _nicely_ enough?" He couldn't believe what she was...she was...what was she...the glint of humor in her eyes, of triumph, clued him in.

"_Bones_," he practically whispered her name, letting his voice drop and soften. He leaned even closer, pulling their clasped hands off the table and stroking his fingers lightly along her cheek with his free hand. Her eyes slammed shut and he whispered in her ear, "And where did you learn to ask for things _like that_?" He was smugly satisfied with the small shudder that went through her body.

"From you." She whispered honestly against his own ear.

He pulled back, slowly. "What?"

"Sweet is usually better than sour when you are trying to get information out of someone."

Booth swallowed, hard, remembered his promise of no kissing, dropped her hands, reached for his drink. When he couldn't think of a good comeback, he just told her the story.

He spun her a story of his first year in FBI training, living with several other rookie agents. He told her a little about the other people in his training cohort. Men and two women, known mostly by their last names. He told her about a long cold winter, with more snow than usual, and a night playing Snow Football on the mall, his hands so cold that he didn't realize that he had broken his pinky until he got home and it thawed out purple and swollen.

"The AP had photographers out, but there was no one else there. It was the only time I have ever seen the mall that deserted. Anyway, one photographer took a picture of some of us and that picture was picked up all over the country. I had a buddy in South Carolina call to say that he opened his newspaper and saw me over his morning cereal."

Brennan listened avidly; details of Booth's life as a young man were shared rarely. Finished, Booth shifted and pulled his gaze away from her, looked around the still crowded restaurant for something and not seeming to find it, looked back at her. "What about you, Bones? Ever been snowed in?"

"Once." His self-consciousness had transmitted itself to her, it seemed, and suddenly, she felt reluctant to share the details, however innocuous.

Booth waved the last almond-stuffed fig at her enticingly. Brennan shook her head. "I'm full."

"What'll it take, Bones?"

"What?"

"What can I give you to get you to tell me your story?"

Intrigued, Brennan's shyness, if that is what it was, fell away. She leaned forward, arms crossed on the table. Booth's eyes flicked downward and she realized that she had probably made her v-neck shirt sweater stretch and gap provocatively. That didn't seem important, just now, though, and Brennan wondered how many tequila shots they had drank tonight.

"Booth, do you remember drinking tequila with me once before?" Heat pooled low when he mimicked her position at the table. The leaned into each other and their faces were close; his eyes challenged hers to not back down.

"Oh yeah, Bones. I remember. Although I'm not sure that is a memory that will help me keep my promise tonight." His voice was husky and despite his bold body language, the words were spoken softly and carefully.

"What promise?" Her voice was just loud enough to be heard.

"No kissing." She couldn't help it, her eyes dropped to his lips, full and pink and open just a little to take a shuddering breath. He groaned softly.

"Bones…"

She said, just loudly enough to clear the composite noise of the crowd around them, "I had a postdoc at Princeton University one winter semester. My roommates and I had just met, really, when there was a powerful snowstorm." She had been speaking to his mouth but now raised her eyes to his and continued to murmur, as if sharing a secret., "They didn't know me yet, didn't think I was strange and unfriendly yet, and we were all hungry. The only places open in town were a liquor store and a Chinese restaurant. The town was deserted. The New Jersey Turnpike, one of the most highly trafficked roads in the country in the most densely populated state, was closed. There were a few people out on cross country skis but otherwise, it was just us. We bought cheap coffee liqueur, milk, and Chinese food."

"Is that all?"

"We bought plenty."

"No, I mean, is that the end of the story?

"Yes." They were still both leaning on the table, faces close so they could hear each other. Brennan was aware, suddenly, of the intimacy between them that had built over this night, and Booth's eyes, dark and intent on hers, seemed to reflect it. Brennan wanted to reach out and take Booth's hand again. She was a woman of action, her very decisiveness usually off-putting to other, less certain, people around her. She knew that Booth was vulnerable, less so because of alcohol and more because of the romanticism inherent in the holidays for him, but she also knew that she wanted him, wanted to feel his skin on hers, wanted to reach out and feel if he was hard in his jeans. His eyes flickered and his head moved ever so slightly in question. She wondered if she had given herself away. Booth didn't want them to become sexually involved. She trusted and respected him. Therefore, they shouldn't become sexually involved. On the other hand, they hadn't talked about it in a long time. Perhaps, with all that had happened—Zach, Sully, Jared—she should bring it up again.

Booth watched Bones work it out. When it came to emotions, her brain didn't work any faster than anyone else's. He kept his eyes on her but in his peripheral vision, could see her fingers stretch and tremble. He didn't know what was holding her back. He knew what was holding him back, fear of affecting their working relationship and fear of hurting her. She had been hurt enough."

"I am stronger than you think." Booth was honestly surprised that she had figured that part out, but he answered anyway.

"You have always been strong, Bones." Brennan felt something loosen even further inside of her, but she pushed a little harder, a little farther.

"I don't need to be protected from you, Booth." He was trying to work that out when he felt her fingers on his. His hand convulsed against hers, almost hurting, giving the lie to her statement. It wasn't pain he saw in her face though.

He turned away to signal for the check. When the waitress came, he handed over his credit card, signed the slip, all without letting go of her hand. They stood, close together and fingers gripping, hot and a little clumsy, neither one wanting to let go, but in order to leave, to put on their coats, they really needed to.

"On three..." Booth said.

"On three or—"

"ON three, Bones." But his smile at her was teasing. "One…" He waited, raising his eyebrows.

"Two," she said.

"Three." And they let go, but Brennan swayed just as they did so, from alcohol or the crowd or _something_ and the tips of her breasts, hard and sensitive under her thin cashmere sweater brushed his chest. Her eyes slammed shut and his arms came up to pull her against him. Brennan's arms went around him, breasts pressing hard, and her body thrilled to feel his wiry strength against hers, to touch his ribs through his shirt for an instant. She felt the scratch and heat and smell of him against her cheek, and then he released her as quickly as he had embraced her. He turned, to put on his coat and scarf, and she did the same and even though she couldn't really feel it through her puffy coat, she knew his hand rested at her back as they made their way out.

On the sidewalk, she faced him, the snow still falling and swirling heavy around them. Again, she had a strong, although clearly irrational, sense that they were alone in the world.

"Booth." And then he did something surprising. Without apparent hesitation, he reached out and cupped her face, thumb rubbing gently against her right zygomatic. He smiled a little, and even though his breath was coming faster than normal, he was calm when he said, "Listen, Bones. Let's go out next Friday night. A date. Maybe between friends, maybe...more, but let's not decide now." When she didn't say anything, just nodded, he brushed her lower lip once with his thumb and then moved away, taking her mitten-clad hand in his gloved one.

His rough thumb on her cool lip had felt like a kiss.

**SJB & TB**

Booth leaned forward on the couch, looking back at Brennan and grinning. "Bones, c'mon. It's almost midnight!"

"Booth, I'm right here!"

"Come _on_, Bones. Front and center." He reached back and grabbed her hand, pulled her up from where she was curled in the corner of her couch so that she was sitting up next to him, their thighs pressed together. He pulled her near arm under his and threaded their fingers together, letting her see the happiness in his eyes close up. She couldn't look away. Her fingers tightened on hers and she let herself smile back. Their faces were close and she felt the connection between them, not tension just now, sexual or otherwise, just..._closeness_. Togetherness. She was not alone right now. She was with Booth. And happy to be so. He held her eyes a moment more, as if to underline her unspoken thought, and then looked away.

"You ready? It's just a minute before the coundown." He said without looking back at her.

"Yes, Booth. I am ready." Instead of mocking his excitement, she just let her head drop to his shoulder. He shifted and wiggled his shoulder a little and she understood that he was letting her know he liked her there. _When did they get so close? So comfortable, physically?_ _Would they really not kiss? _

Her eyes focused on the streaming video on her laptop screen. Booth cleared his throat and spoke again.

"Bones, do you have anything you regret this year? Anything you hope for, for the next one?" His hand tightened on hers as if he could feel the words trying to crawl up and out of her. "No, don't tell me, just…just...just know that I am happy tonight. That whatever we did that we might regret, whatever we might not have done that we wish we had, whatever we are glad we did that we wish we had done more of...aw hell," he broke off with a small frustrated laugh, "I don't know if that made any sense. But whatever happened or didn't happen, it brought us here. So I'm not sorry for it. Any of it."

And he turned and pressed his mouth to her forehead, swept his lips side to side a little. Not, technically, a kiss. Probably.

"Booth—"

"Ten." The announcer's voice, and Booth's, overrode hers. Booth's focus was back on the screen again.

"Nine." Hoarse from shouting during the snow game earlier and the late hour, Booth's voice was rough and husky; it made her think of his mouth, how it looked earlier, how _much_ she had wanted to kiss him. Taste tequila on his lips again. Like that first night, in the rain.

"Eight." Regret for things she had done. That she hadn't cared for Zach better. That she had believed Jared. She swallowed and pressed her face a little into Booth's shoulder, to hide, from the swell of embarrassment when she thought of that kiss, and then of the scene with Mark and Jason and her lack of understanding of how those two men would feel. Booth let loose of her hand and put his arm behind her, pulling her close against his side.

"Seven." She didn't regret pushing Jared off the stool in that bar. Or having her father back in her life. Or caring for Baby Andy.

"Six." Or supporting Angela in her lesbian relationship with Roxie. As much as Angela was a free spirit, and as little insight as Brennan had into what it meant to be a best friend to such a woman, she knew how little open approbation Angela had received in her life from people close to her.

"Five." And Parker. She didn't regret having a relationship with the little boy. He was so like his father, but also, like her. He liked learning. He thought she was funny. She understood that, but was grateful for his acceptance of her nonetheless.

"Four." Happy. Booth said he was happy. Right now. With her. And she felt the same, felt the same joy swelling up in her. To be so close to him, feel his warmth and have his arm around her.

"Three." To know him. His belt buckle made her want to smile when she saw it. The way he chatted with Hodgins or Angela or Cam when he came to the lab. The way his hair was flat on one side when he had been sleeping. The way he pretended he didn't want the rest of his fries.

"Two." To be known. The way he knew what she feared, made sure he was nearby when she needed him. He helped her get through her father's trial. He trusted her in the field, his field. He deflected Sweet's attention from her when it was too much.

"One."

"Happy New Year!" The tinny sound of the speaker emitting hoots and cheers, noisemakers and bells, faded as Brennan lifted her head to look at Booth. He leaned forward to tap the mute button, but left the fireworks exploding on the screen.

He turned toward her. "Happy New Year, Bones." He whispered.

"Booth." Emotion made her voice thick and his eyes widened. She reached out and, like an echo of earlier this evening, cupped his face. She rubbed her thumb across his right zygomatic. His eyes blinked slowly closed and open again. "No kissing." She whispered, lifting her hand from his face and stroking across to his other cheek.

He swallowed and let her touch him, but he still didn't understand.

"I am happy too. Happy that you know me so well. Happy that I know you." She smiled, never looking away from his eyes and she thrilled to see the dazed look in them. He looked stunned, as if he couldn't gather his wits to smile. "For instance, I know you like this." She rose, pulled him up to stand facing her. She was still wearing her red cashmere sweater. Booth was wearing a faded white Pink Floyd t-shirt. The muscles of his arms flexed as his hands curled and then uncurled. She reached out and cupped both of her palms around his elbows, stroking softly at the fragile skin in the bend.

Booth moaned and his head fell back. "_Jesus._" After indulging in her touch for long moments, he rolled his head forward as if drugged. "_Bones_. _My turn._" He shifted away a little and her hands dropped.

He reached around and slipped a hand under her sweater, spreading his rough palm against the hollow of her back and pulled her to him so her body pressed against his, so that his fingers could stroke and play with the soft skin. He touched her where he always touched her but not like a partner, like a lover, and her body bowed against his and she let out a startled exhalation of her own. She curled forward again, though, tucking her head under his chin, letting the slide of his fingers against her back, now inching up and to the sides as well, raise the blood to the surface of her skin. She could feel every touch throughout her body.

Her turn. Without warning him this time—she had moved beyond words—she tilted her head so she could breathe against his neck, breathe in his scent, just below his ear. She reached up just enough to bite his earlobe, suck and lick it into her mouth. His hands stopped, just stopped, hot still on her body, but his body shuddered and bucked a little against her. She didn't know how she knew but she knew _knew_ that he almost broke then, almost—

Regret. Well, this was one thing in the new year she was damn well _not_ going to regret. _Too subtle for you, Booth? _ She opened her mouth wider, let his lobe go with one more strong pull and licked and sucked and bit her away down his neck to the rough sensitive hollow, to the prominent adam's apple, and while she was at it—she always was an excellent multitasker—pushed her hands under his t-shirt, to stroke circles along his belly, loving the grunts he made when she thumbed his belly button. She spread her hands wide and as she suckled at his neck, deliberately leaving marks, Brennan swept larger circles up his torso, letting her fingers press and tweak his nipples.

He growled and his fingers threaded through the back of her hair, pulled her head back hard. He pulled until her body bent back and he held her weight with his other arm, the muscles bunching and straining to do the work they were built for. "_Bones_...I...you don't know what you are doing to me...what you...I can't...won't be able to stop." He leaned over nuzzled her neck roughly with his nose and face and mouth, stopping just short of kissing. His voice was harsh with desire. "What are you doing to me?"

"Kissing you, Booth. And I am not sorry either." Her breasts were painfully tight and with him holding her body up, she felt exposed and wanton. She wanted his mouth on her breasts. She wanted them naked.

Suddenly, he smiled. It was a smile with a hard edge, powerful and certain, and her body melted even more against him. Her eyes, however, stayed on his, waiting to see what he would do, what he would say. He bent over her, breath hot and fast against her face, and stated, baldly, "That wasn't kissing, Bones. _This_, is kissing."

His mouth. Oh. Booth's mouth. On hers. His tongue wrapped around hers and pulled. He licked between her lips and she moaned, high and crazed with wanting him. His hand gripped her face as his mouth pressed onto hers, took what he needed, promised to take her where she wanted to go.

She pushed at his clothes, ripping his t-shirt up and off, mouths parting only for an instant before sealing back together again. She didn't want to ever be apart from this man. Only once more, an instant's separation, when he pulled her sweater up and off.

She knew that he would kiss her everywhere later. And the small taste she had of his neck, his face and ear, were not enough, but later. Maybe tomorrow. But for now, she wanted this, this, their mouths joined, open against each other. She could unbutton his jeans and push them down while nibbling at his lips, so soft and strong against hers. He sucked at her bottom lip and then the top, separately, as he unbuttoned _her_ jeans and slipped them down with her panties. He stroked and squeezed her sensitive bottom while he played with her tongue, licked into her mouth to stroke along her teeth. Booth made an impatient sound into her mouth, when he couldn't get her bra undone and she would have laughed except she was too busy breaking her promise.

Finally they were both naked and Booth crowded her back onto the couch, the soft throw that had been around her legs now warm against her back and there was no more waiting, no more countdown, as she pulled Booth down to her, and the broad head of his cock slid against her, through her slick folds even as one hand held most of his weight off of her and the other played with her breasts until she was keening into his mouth with want. At last, despite her moan of denial, he ended the kiss, ripping his mouth from hers, his withdrawal brutal in a way that the rough kiss had not been.

He was just a breath away but forced her to meet his eyes as he slid slowly into her body. Eyes slamming shut, she arched up, legs cradling him and wrapping around him forcefully. She was trembling, shaking with the pleasure of him finally _finally_ inside of her. He was big and the heat of him, inside and out, was incredible. Her body flexed at the sounds coming from him, her name chanted over and over.

"_Bonesbonesbonesbones...oh god bones baby bones oh baby...oh fuck...I can't...just—"_ She felt him take a breath, his ribcage expanding against her sweaty skin, shuddering as he tried to keep control. "_just...just look at me, Bones. Bonesbabybones just look at me." _She opened her eyes, but didn't see him, just felt him, his weight on her body, in her body, his arms now on either side of her head, his own eyes dazed with lust and his head starting to move side to side, like an animal, dipping down to brush his lips against her skin, to lick a little, bite. But then he would pull back, focus on her. She didn't know what he needed, why he wasn't _moving_. _"Bones,_" he gasped one last time.

"What, Booth? _What?_"

"Just, happy...happy…ooooohnoooo—" His head dropped to her shoulder and he shifted so that his cock stroked in and out a little. The pleasure was indescribable.

"_Yes, Booth, oh yes,_" she tried to communicate, to tell him what he needed to hear. "Happy New Year." She murmured against his mouth, inanely. _Was that right? Would he move now? _

"No, Bones. Just...happy. Happy." And then the sweet taste of Booth, the pressure of his lips on hers, filled her as they finally, finally, moved together as one. She had wanted this for so long and all the waiting brought her so close, so fast, and Booth wasn't far behind. She was done waiting; they had all night together. "_The whole new year, in fact,_" she thought giddily, as she cried out into his mouth, as she took his own release inside of hers, twisting them together until she thought she was die of the pleasure.

Before he let them slip into sleep, Booth flipped them, somehow contriving to bring the soft blanket with her, so that she lay half on top of him, mostly covered. He had slipped from her body and she could feel the wet warmth between her legs and on his but she didn't care. She did take the trouble to kick a little, to get the blanket around her feet. Booth tightened his arms around her, objecting to her squirming. "_Bones_. Stop."

But now her feet were covered and she relaxed, resting her whole weight on him gratefully, her arm laying comfortably on his chest, fingers moving soothingly on his shoulder. "Mmmm. Happy too, Booth." His arms tightened again at her words, and he pressed one more kiss into her hair.


End file.
